


Treasure Not A Trophy

by GunTotingScienceNerd



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 00:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8689738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GunTotingScienceNerd/pseuds/GunTotingScienceNerd
Summary: Rodimus jumps to conclusions and Megatron educates the hopeful hot rod





	

“You're beautiful.” 

Rodimus startled at the sound of Megatron’s voice, lost in a book he was reading in an attempt to quell his temper. He pulled the ribbon marker back into place and carefully set the book aside before he spoke. “Yeah, so you’ve said. So lots of have told me before. Doesn’t mean I want to be treated like arm candy every time we land on some Primus forsaken planet that you’ve had dealings with before. Especially when we’re being shown around a casino that you apparently own. I’ve never felt cheaper or used in my life, and that’s saying something.” 

“I think you misunderstand.” Megatron pushed off the wall he was lazed against and crossed the room to join Rodimus on their couch. 

“I don’t think I do. I heard all those things that slimy lizard was saying to you. About how pretty I was and how he bet I could fetch a pretty price.” 

A small smile slipped along Megatron’s face for a moment though he aborted his reach for Rodimus when the seething look on the younger mech's face let him know his touch was very unwelcome. “You do misunderstand, his words and mine.”

Rodimus huffed at the statement, rolling his eyes and throwing off his blanket before he stood with every intention of storming off. “Yeah, I see. Pretty little Hot Rod, all looks, and no brains. Poor kid doesn’t have the sense Primus gave an Insecticon. Whatever.” 

Megatron held Rodimus’ hand loosely. He wouldn’t force his presence on the Primeling if Rodimus truly wished to leave. “I apologize that you felt that way. That was never my intention. I’ll happily explain if you are willing to listen.” When Rodimus didn’t move, Megatron pulled slightly on Rodimus' hand bringing it to his lips. He placed a chaste kiss one particularly battered and oozing knuckle. “What poor section of the ship felt your ire this time?”

“It wasn’t the ship; it was my shuttle. The atmospheric drive wouldn’t spool up fast enough and… well… yeah.” 

Megatron continued to pull on Rodimus’ hand until the flame-colored mech was seated next to him again. “May I take care of your hand while I tell you my side of the story?” He placed a kiss on the palm of the hand he held, “Or should I wait a little longer for the flames of your temper to die down a bit more?” 

“Yeah fine, whatever,” Rodimus said falling back against the couch. “Just make it quick. There’s a cube of Nightmare Fuel calling my name.” He didn’t miss the frown Megatron shot him, part of him was gleeful to return some of the disconcerted feelings he’d gotten earlier. 

“The Dregonie are hoarders of beautiful things. Brouse was complimenting me on my good fortune that I’ve found such a lovely prize. My keeping you close, my care of you, my seeking your opinion was not to make you seem like a trophy but to show your importance and your status in my life. Had I sought to sell you or to dismissed you then yes you would have been nothing more than some pretty bauble to be bought, sold or traded. But now they will all know you are a treasure, not a trophy.” 

Rodimus sat in stunned silence watching large rough miner turned gladiator turned warlord's hands taking such care while tending his own self-inflicted injury. “A treasure not a trophy,” he mulled the words over and over again in his mind. “So I mean something to you and not just when I’m all panels open and screaming your name?” 

Megatron tied off compression bandage to keep Rodimus’ hand immobilized until Ratchet could see him in the morning. “Yes, I have come to value your zest for life, your fervency for new experiences, and the quiet moments when you let the all the facades fall away. If I’ve been remiss in showing you that, then I apologize.” 

Rodimus searched Megatron as Drift had taught him, Megatron's optics, his field, body language, spark resonance. He knew without a doubt that the mech before him was a master manipulator, he wanted to believe what he was reading, but did he let himself give over to that longing. Could he cast caution to the wind and let hope fly? “Well, maybe the Nightmare Fuel can wait. Want to watch a movie?” 

“So long as it’s not one of your ridiculous explosion fests without any semblance of substance.” Megatron sat back and watched the speedster next to him. 

“You just don’t like them because you’re old,” Rodimus smirked at him before wrapping himself back up in his blanket and flopping across Megatron’s lap. “Keep that attitude up, and I’ll pick us a chick flick or worse one of Drift’s badly dubbed Kung Fu movies.” 

“Perish the thought.” 

Rodimus couldn’t quite keep the grin off his lips and didn’t fight his snigger when Megatron groaned as the title flashed across the screen.


End file.
